Mirror Images
by EstelRaca
Summary: When Trucy cons Klavier into taking her up to Kurain Village the winter following the Misham case, Klavier expects to be miserable. Instead he finds himself bonding with one of Maya's older cousins, the two of them sharing troubles and triumphs. Post Apollo Justice, Klavier/Iris.


**Author's Note:** This was written for the Ace Attorney holiday exchange, for Brighty124, who really wanted to see Klavier and Iris in a romantic Christmas fic. It's not a pairing I had thought of before, but they have some surprising similarities. Hope people enjoy!

 _Mirror Images_

Klavier slips away from the joyful gathering, out into the dark and the snow.

He should probably write a song lyric about that. He _does_ start writing song lyrics about that, before he can stop himself. _Away from the warmth/away from the fire/Winds of the north/reclaiming the tired_ , but they're sad lyrics in poor taste and he wills himself to forget them.

He's not a song-crafter any more, after all. He's just a prosecutor, dedicating himself to trying to undo the damage his brother (and he) have done.

A prosecutor who is not at work, and he should have known that it was a trap the instant Trucy asked him to accompany her up to Kurain. He _did_ know it was a trap, really. He agreed because he was certain that, despite Trucy's cunning, it wouldn't actually close.

There was no possible way Phoenix Wright would agree to have _Klavier_ accompany Trucy on a two-hour train ride, not given everything that's happened between them. Either Phoenix would tell Trucy that she couldn't go, given Phoenix and Apollo's unexpected case, or Trucy would be sent out on her own. She's old enough to handle what is obviously a well-known trip, after all, especially given that she works part-time.

Wright didn't save Klavier, though. When Trucy said that Klavier had agreed to accompany her, Wright had looked thoughtful and then given his blessing to the trip.

Klavier had pinned his hopes on Prosecutor Edgeworth, then, assuming that the Chief Prosecutor would be able to find _some_ reason to keep Klavier in town. Edgeworth has been keeping Klavier busy ever since he took over the role of Chief Prosecutor, piling case after case onto Klavier's desk. Since Klavier _wants_ to keep busy, he hasn't complained at all.

Instead of saving him, though, Edgeworth had studied him contemplatively for several seconds, tapping his finger on his forearm, and then said that Gavin had enough vacation time to cover at least a few days.

So Klavier had packed his bags, and picked up an eager Trucy from the Wright Anything Agency, and delivered her in one piece to her aunt, who is apparently the Master of Kurain and a rather delightful woman, really.

Klavier isn't always in the mood for delightful these days, though. He appreciates how open and welcoming Maya Fey has been. He appreciates how enthusiastic Pearl Fey has been about meeting him and listening to his music with Trucy. He deeply appreciates what Trucy is trying to do, the girl clearly hoping that Klavier will find the vacation revitalizing, that it will put some of his demons to rest.

Perhaps it will, too. Perhaps he'll go back into the house in ten, twenty, thirty minutes, and smile for the people who are being far kinder than they have to be to a man who hurt them deeply, and eventually find that the smile is more than surface-deep.

 _Lying beneath the surface/Deeper than my sins/Who I want to be versus/The monster in my skin_

Dark, far too dark, and not even remotely related to the legal system.

"Besides." Klavier watches his breath fog out into the night. "You're not a singer anymore, _trottel_."

"Prosecutor Gavin?"

The voice is soft, female, and Klavier turns to see that one of the Fey women has followed him.

He doesn't think he has been introduced to this one. She is older than Maya—most of the Fey clan seems to be older than their master, though. Somewhere in her mid-thirties, probably, her face just starting to show lines of aging, and she is studying him tentatively. She raises her hand to hover in front of her mouth when she speaks, as though uncertain it's allowed. "Are you all right, Prosecutor Gavin?"

" _Ja_." Klavier smiles, hoping that the darkness will hide any stretching or cracks in the expression. "Just admiring the view."

"It is beautiful." The woman steps up beside him, still moving with the uncertain hesitance of someone who doesn't think they'll be welcome. "Both in the day, and at night. Though at night, if you're looking out into the forest or down the mountainside, it can be easy to imagine you'll get lost in the shadows."

Klavier finds his gaze returning to the darkness, spreading out beneath a star-flecked heaven that looks closer, more _real_ than the sky in the city ever does.

"Sometimes... that's not so bad." The woman clasps her hands in front of her chest. "Especially if you _want_ to disappear for a while."

His eyes flick back to her, quickly, and he studies her with a more wary interest. What does she know? Who has told her about him?

"My name is Iris." She doesn't raise her eyes to meet his, instead continuing to look out into the darkness. "I'm Maya's cousin—Pearl's older half-sister."

Klavier nods, mentally filling in another branch of the Fey family tree. It seems to be a rather large and complicated structure.

"I was in prison until six months ago, for aiding and abetting my serial-killer twin sister with her crimes."

For a few seconds Klavier can't speak—can't quite believe his ears, the way her voice trembles just slightly on the soft-spoken words. "You... are a convict?"

"Ex-convict. Or perhaps always convict? I suppose you never really lose the conviction." Iris smiles, but the expression doesn't reach her eyes. "I didn't ever actually hurt anyone. I just... didn't stop my sister. She always _said_ she would stop, that this one was the last one, that she was just trying to look out for both of us..." Iris trails off. "You don't need to hear about that, though. You're already carrying enough ghosts of your own."

Ghosts. The thing that the Fey family is known for, the gift that Klavier is uncertain whether he believes in or not, but even if they can see ghosts, the ones he carries aren't the kind they can summon. "My ghosts are all still living, Fraulein Flower."

"Are they?" Iris hugs her arms to her chest.

" _Ja_." It is easier to talk, if he turns away from her, letting his words spill out with his breath into the empty dark. "My friend killed a man—an Interpol agent—because being a multi-millionaire wasn't rich enough. He expected me to help cover it up. I did not. Daryan is too narcissistic to end his own life, though. He won't be a ghost for many years to come."

A hand brushes against his elbow. "Not all ghosts belong to the dead."

"No. I suppose they don't." Klavier's right hand rises, toys with his bangs as he thinks back over what Iris has said. "Your twin sister? Identical twins?"

"Identical twins." Iris nods. "She would have me impersonate her, or she would impersonate me. Depending on whether she needed someone with empathy or someone... well. Someone like herself. I was manipulated by a psychopath. I'm an easily-led individual. It says there right in my psyche profile, the one that Master Maya used to barter for my early parole into her custody." Iris closes her eyes, and Klavier wonders if she is crying, though he sees no tears on her cheeks. Sometimes there are no tears when one cries, though, just like sometimes there are sobs without sound. "She's done so much for me, even though she didn't need to—shouldn't have, some would say. My sister orchestrated her mother's death. But she says there's been enough bad blood between Fey family lines, and she just wants us all to be happy."

"An admirable goal." Klavier thinks of the smiling woman who greeted him—thinks of the way she has touched him, gently, just a caress of her hand against his, and asked if there is anything she can do. "Is she succeeding?"

"She's earned my loyalty, for what it's worth." A rueful smile touches Iris' face as she opens her eyes and turns to face him. "And I want to do what I can, to help her and those she cares about."

 _Including you_ , her eyes say, and Klavier takes a step back. How has he earned Trucy's trust and devotion so readily—and these people, through Trucy? How can they accept him so readily, after what he has done? How can they look at him and not see... someone else looking back?

"It gets easier." Again Iris' hand brushes against his. "The longer they're gone, the less you see them in the mirror. I won't say it goes away completely—sometimes I still think about cutting all my hair off, or scarring my face, or doing _anything_ so that I don't look like _her_ anymore. But it gets easier."

"I didn't..." Klavier trails off, wrapping his fingers around Iris'. What is the point of denying it, anyway? "My older brother. He killed people, and he framed Phoenix Wright—tried to ruin Phoenix's life, twice. And he used me to do it."

Iris nods. "I know. Trucy told us all. That's why I... I wanted to talk to you. To tell you... I'm not the same. I knew what Dahlia was; you didn't know what your brother was. But I survived, and they've still given me a home, and if _I_ can make it—if someone who carries more guilt than you can make it..."

Klavier tightens his fingers around hers, closes his eyes, and Iris trails off, recognizing that he needs a few moments.

They just stand together, in the darkness, in the falling snow, and after a few moments he can speak again. "You stopped seeing her in the mirror?"

"Yes." Iris hesitates. "Or rather... I finally started seeing myself again."

Klavier nods, and they return to their silent vigil, two souls in the darkness amidst a sea of ghosts, until finally Iris tugs him back towards the warmth, and Klavier follows her without protest.

XXX

Klavier had intended to go home as soon as Phoenix and Apollo caught up to Trucy.

Instead he ends up staying longer than the girl, using up the vacation time he had stored. The Chief Prosecutor doesn't seem upset about it. If anything, he seems quietly pleased that Klavier has found something he wants to do besides work.

Iris continues her usual work around the compound—cleaning, cooking, helping direct guests, helping with sewing, helping with anything Maya needs done. Klavier watches her—watches all of them, finding it easy to settle into the quiet rhythm of the place.

"I'm glad." Iris whispers the words, when he takes her out onto a snow-covered hill. It is light, this time, the sun glistening on the untouched snow, sinking deep into their footprints to reveal twigs and rich brown earth. "That's what this is supposed to be, after all. A place of healing."

"I thought..." Klavier trails off, not certain how to put his thoughts into words without sounding offensive.

"You thought it was all about the ghosts? The spookiness? The separation from normalcy so that we can better fleece people of their hard-earned money?" There is a gently teasing note to Iris' voice as she makes her suggestions. Reaching up to pat him on the cheek, she shakes her head.

She is wearing a sweater that he gave her—a red one, to match his green one, the only hint of festivity that Klavier had included in his wardrobe. She is wearing it over her Kurain acolyte clothes, the red almost-but-not-quite clashing with the purples, and when she is done patting his cheek her hand retreats back into her robe.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Klavier smiles wistfully. "I thought this just happened to be where the ghost-summoners live."

"Well, it _does_ have elements conducive to our gifts. But it also lets us craft an environment of healing. Because that's what all the ghosts are about, really." Iris walks to the edge of the treeline, her hand reaching out again to caress ice-encrusted bark. "The ghosts are about finding peace."

Klavier trails after her. "It seems that one could find better peace without ghosts."

"People come here because they're grieving." Iris turns to study him. "They come here because they're hurting—because they miss a loved one, or need answers from someone who died before they could give them. Answers we can give. Freedom from grief... that takes a bit more than just a ten-minute chat with the spirit of the departed."

"Grief..." Klavier hesitates. _A hole in my heart/A wound in my soul/Trembling steps forward/Unsteady as a foal_. " _Ja_ , fraulein, it takes a great deal more than words or answers to ease that away."

"I'm sorry." Reaching out to take his hand, Iris draws him closer to her. "Here you were actually smiling, and I made you all morose again."

"You did no such thing." Shaking his head, Klavier summons up a smile, finding that it comes more easily and sits more steadily on his face than it has for months. "I am always eager to smile when I'm with you, _fraulein_."

Iris blushes, looking down. "Do you know what kind of tree this is, Klavier?"

Klavier studies the large plant in front of him. "The tree kind."

"It's an _oak_ , silly." Iris' hand slaps against his chest, a gentle chastisement. "And do you know what that is, growing up there? The parasitic plant?"

Squinting, Klavier can make out the green leaves that she's indicating. They _do_ look vaguely familiar, but he's not sure...

Standing on tip-toe, her lips brush against his cheek, the softest kiss. "It's mistletoe."

Klavier arches an eyebrow. "The parasitic plant is mistletoe? That does not sound very romantic."

Iris tilts her head, a flicker of sorrow in her eyes. "Love often isn't as pretty or nice as people like to think it is."

"Ach, now that is just sad to say, _fraulein_." Brushing a finger against her cheek, Klavier uses a hand on the back of her neck to tilt her head up, so that they are facing each other. "Love can hurt. Oh, can it hurt. But we've both seen how it can also reach out, even when it doesn't have to, and heal."

He isn't entirely sure who initiates the kiss. Himself, probably, because he is usually one to take charge of such things? Her, because she is older and, in some ways, wiser, and he is busy studying her face, trying to memorize the way her eyes look, the way her cheeks are touched with red by the cold, the way her slightly chapped lips are parted?

Both of them, perhaps. Both of them reaching for something else, someone else, and it isn't a deep kiss. It isn't a challenging kiss, like most that he has had. It is just a pressing of their lips together, a mingling of their breath, a moment of peace as their bodies touch.

Then her arms are around his chest, her head resting against his heart, and Klavier finds that he has to remind his body to breathe.

"Will you come see me?" Iris' voice trembles with the question. "I won't always be here—there's another temple I tend to frequent, when it's not the holidays and Maya doesn't want as much of the family as possible together."

"I will come visit you anywhere." Hugging the woman tight to him in turn, Klavier buries his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. "Assuming you wish to see me."

"I think kissing you answers that question." Iris laughs, separating herself slowly from him, though she takes both his hands in hers and holds them tight. "Thank you, Klavier. I thought I would just be doing what I could to help you, but you're... you're sweet and kind and _genuine_ , even with all the masks that you wear, and... you've made this a much better week than I expected it to be."

"You're very welcome, Iris." There is nothing forced about the smile that he wears now, and Klavier hopes that she can see that—can see the warmth in his eyes as he studies her. "But the festivities aren't over yet. Shall we go back down to the village and participate?"

"We should. We will." Iris smiles, a flash of a mischievous grin that Klavier thinks he will want to see more of in the future. "But first... would you like to make snow angels?"

"If you want." Klavier blinks, his smile turning rueful. "Though neither of us are particularly angelic, I would say."

"All the more reason to strive for our wings then, yes?" Centering both her hands on his chest, Iris grins up at Klavier and then shoves him down into a snowdrift.

She plops down into the snow next to him a moment later, her arms pinwheeling, her eyes focused on the sun and the clouds far above them.

They make snow angels together, lying side by side in the snow, and when Klavier looks in the mirror that evening, combing his hair out in preparation for a meal with Maya Fey and the rest of her family, he thinks he sees just a little bit less of Kristoph looking back at him than he had before.


End file.
